


The View

by viiemzee



Category: Smash (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-16
Updated: 2014-01-16
Packaged: 2018-01-08 23:59:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1139035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viiemzee/pseuds/viiemzee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From here, the view is glorious. She can see her for what everyone else sees her as. She forgets that sometimes, she has a private view altogether.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The View

**Ivy**

Even from up here I can still spot her. Or what I think is her. She's sitting with Derek, no doubt, but there's obviously nothing going on there. How can there be? I know for a fact that if anything ever does happen, there will still always be me, at the end of the day.

Not for him. But for her.

The view from up here is stunning. I can see for miles across adoring heads and faces. I know where I belong and it's right here, on this stage, changing the world view of a few people one note at a time.

But even I know that's not entirely true.

* * *

 

**Karen**

From down here, in the Dress Circle, the view is magnificent. I get to see her in all her glory, all her splendid glowing magnificent beauty.

And even with all those big, embellishing words I still feel like I'm not doing her any justice. I still feel like there are better words – or maybe none at all – to describe her.

The view from here is beautiful; I can see her so clearly, and I'm falling in love with her even more.

* * *

 

**Ivy**

I run into her in the bathroom. Derek's outside, she tells me. I ask her if she's going home with him, and she shakes her head. We both know that she wouldn't do that, but we also both know that she would because nobody can know about us.

"Are you sure about this?" I ask her, and she looks at me.

She's so god damn beautiful, even in this stupid fluorescent bathroom light.

I could stare at her all day.

* * *

 

**Karen**

My bed is always just a little bit too small for us. I prefer hers by far, it's much more comfortable and there's always room for both of us. But my bed is never enough, I always end up having to curl up to her and hold her just a little too tightly. Not that I mind. Not that she minds.

We're happy this way. Or as happy as we could be while hiding a potentially ruining relationship from the press and from everyone around us ("Trust no bitch," Ivy had said that one time when all this started up, three months ago, after a drunk night out after we ran into each other).

It's funny, how all this started. We'd both been at our separate shows for three years now – she was on Bombshell still, and I was still on Hit List. Derek and I remained in close contact, but she and Derek had long broken up – amicably at that. Ivy had bumped into me at a bar and we had got to talking. I had walked her home, and three months later we were here. I have no idea what had prompted either of us towards this step, but maybe it was best we didn't question it.

Sometimes, when we fought, Ivy said it was just for the sex. But then it would always be three hours later and she'd be on my sofa with a glass of wine and apologizing and saying she didn't mean it. And I always forgave her and went back to her because how could I not?

Derek and I had heard about the Bombshell anniversary performance, and that's where we had been last night, and that's how we had ended up in my tiny little bed, clutching at sheets together and at each other in an effort to make the moment last just a little bit longer, make the peace linger over our heads for a while before we both had to go back to our lives.

* * *

 

**Ivy**

I wake up and turn to look at her. She's awake before me – she always is – and staring at me face, stroking at my cheek and the contours around my eyes. She smiled when she saw me look at her and leaned down to brush her nose against my cheek.

"Morning."

"Hi," I mumble back, and pull back to look at her face. She frowns, and she still looks amazing.

"What is it?"

"I just like looking at you," I answer matter of factly, and she accepts that response and pulls me in for a kiss – a soft, feathery kiss that she uses to greet me every morning when we wake up like this.

 


End file.
